


In the Dark; In the Silence [Oh, Then We Love]

by project_break



Category: Super Junior-M
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_break/pseuds/project_break
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For every love story with a beginning, middle, and happily-ever-after bathed in sunlight and laughter, there is one which barely starts, perhaps continues, and may not truly ever end in the cover of a darkness and silence which ensures that at least one of the main characters never has to know what he's lost. Zhou Mi wishes for the former; Kyuhyun grasps desperately for the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Zhou Mi knows that he shouldn’t be staring like he is, but sometimes it’s just too hard to resist. Kyuhyun has been close all day, hanging on to Zhou Mi’s hand as they scurried together through the streets of New York, hats pulled down low over their heads and scarves pulled up over their mouths, obscuring their smiles but not Kyuhyun’s clumsy – but earnest – attempts at English, and not Zhou Mi’s sparkling laughter when Kyuhyun’s attempts earned him something completely different than he had had in mind (“Is that a giant, _pig-shaped_ pencil?” “Shut up, Mimi.”)

It was intoxicating, having Kyuhyun so close and so easily affectionate – just the two of them together, completely anonymous in the midst of a big, foreign city where nothing was strange about two men standing so close, walking down the street with fingers entwined. And there was more – something guilty and more than a little sweet – when the older woman behind the counter at the café they had lunch at in midtown had smiled at them indulgently and said in English, “You two make a lovely couple.”

Kyuhyun hadn’t understood, fingers tightening around Zhou Mi’s as he glanced up with that familiar expression Zhou Mi knew very well as his "what did they say?" face. 

“She said that we look like we’re having a good time,” Zhou Mi had told him, only feeling a little guilty about the lie. If Kyuhyun knew what she’d said, then maybe he would pull his hand away and stick it back in the pocket of his coat and Zhou Mi wouldn’t have the warmth of his fingers to keep him grounded in the big, crazy city. (“Thank you,” he had said to the woman, unable to restrain the smile lighting up his face.)

And then they had met up with the rest of the guys and the managers and gone to see where they would be preforming. Madison Square Garden. Zhou Mi could hardly believe it, sitting with Kyuhyun and Hyukjae in the top row of seats, staring down at the stage being set up far below them. 

“This is going to be awesome!” Hyukjae had shouted, nearly bouncing out of his chair in excitement.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Kyuhyun had said, but there was a smile hidden not-quite-well-enough under his expression of indifference.

The night had brought a trip to one of the night clubs downtown, a fashionably grungy basement filled with neon lights and neon drinks and only accessible through a queue which seemed miles long. The name _Super Junior_ didn’t pull a lot of weight in America, so they – Zhou Mi, Kyuhyun, Hyukjae, Donghae and Henry – stood in line with the rest of the hopefuls, resisting the urge to huddle together for warmth in the New York winter and settling for shivering manfully instead. 

If it had been too cold outside, it was too warm inside – hot and damp and packed like a sardine can – but that didn’t stop Zhou Mi. He peeled off the vest he was wearing over his t-shirt and threw himself in the fray, twisting and writhing with the frantic, furious masses of the city, letting the music move his body for him. 

Kyuhyun had declined to dance, declaring himself the designated table weight/chaperone, and stayed at the booth they had managed to grab, sipping casually on something bright blue and accepting the clothes his friends were shedding at a rapid pace with an amused grace.

More than once, Zhou Mi had glanced over to see Kyuhyun watching him with an indiscernible look on his face, a strange expression which seemed to comprise amusement and affection and something else which Zhou Mi wasn’t hopeful enough to seriously consider might be desire. The third time he caught him watching, Zhou Mi stopped dancing and wove his way through the crowd to the table, slipping into the booth and rearranging Henry and Donghae’s clothes to get to Kyuhyun’s side.

“Kuixian!” he’d shouted into his ear over the music, “you keep watching me. Do you want to dance?”

Kyuhyun had laughed, eyes bright as knocked his shoulder playfully against Mi’s. “I only dance if someone’s paying me to,” he’d yelled back. 

Zhou Mi had reached over and swiped his drink – only two-thirds finished in the maybe three hours they’d been there – and took a sip, finding it sweet and slightly fruity, before cupping his hand under Kyuhyun’s chin and tipping his smiling face toward him. “I’d pay you,” he’d said in a speculative tone, meaning it to sound like a joke and regretting it when the smile on Kyuhyun’s face melted away, and he turned his head out of Zhou Mi’s gentle grip. Zhou Mi had dropped his hand to rest on top of Kyuhyun’s on the table, “Kuixian?”

When Kyuhyun had turned back to look at him, it wasn’t with anger, like Zhou Mi had feared, but with nearly the same expression he had worn when he was watching Zhou Mi dance, just with a higher proportion of that unknown factor. Zhou Mi swallowed hard.

“Why don’t you go back to dancing?” Kyuhyun suggested, just barely loud enough for Zhou Mi to hear him. ‘We don’t have that much longer to be here.’ He looked stunning in the flickering lights of the club, the subtle kohl and mascara making him appear even more exotic than usual. “Mimi?” Zhou Mi had nodded mutely and fled to the dance floor to lose himself in the embrace of euphoric strangers. He hadn't glanced over at the table to see if Kyuhyun was watching again.

 

So now they’re here, on the train at one in the morning – they stayed out way too late and they’re going to regret it in about six hours when rehearsals for the concert tonight start – and the rest of the boys have spilt off into their own group, sitting across the aisle from Zhou Mi and Kyuhyun and laughing and whispering to each other about some girl Donghae met at the club (“Are you going to call her?” “Are you joking? You’ve heard his English. What would he possibly say to her: ‘ _Yo, man. Wassup? You and me, baby? Is cool!_ ’?” “It’s better than yours!” “It’s not!”), and Zhou Mi cannot stop staring at Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun, who is sitting close, despite his silence, whose hands are folded in his lap, but restless like he wants to reach out and fill Zhou Mi’s empty ones; Kyuhyun, who looks beautiful even under flickering florescent lights, with shadows under his eyes that are emphasized by smudged eyeliner and flaking mascara, with acne scars from his tough teenage years (seemingly only just left behind him) even more obvious under the unforgiving glare.

Kyuhyun has been looking straight ahead of him for the entire duration of the train ride so far, eyes unfocused before the advertisements for Hunter College and the new exhibit at the MoMA, but suddenly he turns his head, and his eyes lock with Zhou Mi’s and it’s just…the want Zhou Mi feels, the terrifying, energizing need that rips through him is too much to deal with now, on the train, in Manhattan, with their friends sitting six feet away, so he breaks eye contact and stares at the railing over Donghae’s head instead.

Suddenly, Kyuhyun’s fringe is brushing against the side of his face, his shoulder is behind Zhou Mi’s shoulder, and his mouth is at Zhou Mi’s ear as he turns slightly into him and whispers something which makes Zhou Mi shiver hard, and not with cold.

“…If you’re quiet.”

It’s a suggestion and a promise all at once, and Zhou Mi never thought that he could be so lucky after he so clearly fucked up before. He nods, once, and feels Kyuhyun’s hand creep onto his lap and take his hand like there’s nothing to it. He tries to pretend there isn’t.

 

In a fit of creative dubiousness, the managerial team decided that since they would be spending some time in New York to film part of a special about SM groups abroad it would be prudent to put them in more permanent housing than a hotel, and what was more authentic Manhattan-ite housing than a loft in the Village? While it sounded like a good idea in theory, in practice it meant that the sleeping situation entailed four American-style futons arranged in a rough square in the central open area which could be used as a “command center” during the day and opened up during the night and used as beds, with two people sharing each one. Not only was it a more efficient use of the production budget, management had reasoned, it was also a clever fanservice maneuver. Even if they didn’t do any filming in the loft at night, the mere mention of their sleeping situation, never mind _photos_ of the loft, would be enough to keep the fangirls going for roughly the next century.

They flew into New York yesterday, and it was clear that the whole thing was going to be a practical monstrosity right from the get-go: pretty much no private space, echo-chamber-esque rooms, and a front door made of heavy, shrilly squeaking metal. Now as they quietly turn Hyukjae’s key in the lock, they have worry about waking up Siwon, Sungmin and Ryeowook, all of whom elected to refrain from clubbing to catch up on sleep. The five remaining men slip quietly into the “bedroom” partitioned section of the loft where they dumped their bags earlier and change into their sleeping things. Donghae and Zhou Mi go into the bathroom to take their makeup off while the other three – Henry who isn’t wearing any, and Hyukjae and Kyuhyun who just can’t be forced to bother with cosmetics remover so early in the morning – creep back into the living room to get in bed. 

 

When Zhou Mi looks into the living room, he can see by the weak light streaming from the vanity in the bathroom that Siwon and Sungmin are already occupying one futon together (and appear to be engaged in an unconscious battle concerning possession of the blankets), and Henry seems to be asleep already next to Ryeowook. Donghae follows Hyukjae’s silently beckoning hand and joins him under the covers of the third futon, curling around him automatically and sighing contently. That leaves Kyuhyun, lying on his side, turned away from the center of the room, his face hidden from Zhou Mi’s view. 

Zhou Mi takes a deep breath and snaps off the light in the bathroom, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark somewhat before picking his way carefully across the room to Kyuhyun’s futon. Kyuhyun doesn’t acknowledge Zhou Mi in any way as he lifts the covers and get under them, settling himself down on his back. His whole body is thrumming with barely contained excitement, with nerves, with guilt – oh, _God_ , the guilt – but mostly with want for Kyuhyun, who is aloof and unpredictable and so many things that Zhou Mi wants and almost nothing that he should have.

Kyuhyun doesn’t move for several long moments, long enough for Zhou Mi to talk himself into a worried frenzy of doubt. Perhaps he misunderstood. Perhaps Kyuhyun has changed his mind. Perhaps Kyuhyun is asleep. Is he supposed to do something? Does Kyuhyun expect him to make the first move? But what if he does and he’s wrong. What if - ?

And then one of Kyuhyun’s long arms reaches back under the covers and his hand makes contact with Zhou Mi’s wrist and tugs, gently, holds on until Zhou Mi turns on his side and then encourages him closer. Zhou Mi shuffles as quietly as he can across the futon until his front is all pressed up against Kyuhyun’s back, and his heart murmurs an echo of the soft noise that Kyuhyun lets out, a sound like letting out a held breath; like letting go. He considers this permission as he slips his hand over Kyuhyun’s waist and nudges his shirt up just far enough to rest the tips of his fingers above the waistline of his flannel pajama pants. Kyuhyun’s hand stays loosely wrapped around his wrist, fingers tightening slightly at the contact, body pressing gently back against him. Zhou Mi pushes his nose into Kyuhyun’s hair just over his ear and breathes the scent of him in – sweat and mostly-faded cologne, the toxic looking drink he had at the club and, shockingly, Zhou Mi’s cologne as well. It brings up something fierce in him, because it means that Kyuhyun has been so close to him all day that his relatively light fragrance rubbed off on him – his skin, not his clothes.

It triggers a sense of justified possessiveness – Kyuhyun has marked himself out as Mi’s. It’s exhilarating and he can’t help it when he breathes out against Kyuhyun’s ear: ‘Kuixian…’

Kyuhyun’s grip on his wrist intensifies ten-fold, and he turns as noiselessly as possible in Zhou Mi’s arms so that they’re face to face, but just as close as they were. He tips his face up and leans in to whisper in Zhou Mi’s ear in return: “If you’re quiet.” A reminder. Yes. Yes. Only if he’s quiet. But he doesn’t know if he can be as quiet as this situation requires. He doesn’t know if he can hold back, even though he knows what the consequences are. Because this is Kyuhyun and he’s always, even before the first time, he’s…it’s…

He might almost mistake the brushing softness against his mouth to be Kyuhyun’s cheek if he couldn’t feel the odd, prickling feeling of Kyuhyun’s long, mascara-coated eyelashes against his own. He presses back against him immediately, not wanting to waste a second of this precious thing, this kiss that he’s been wanting all night, so simply and unobtrusively given. Kyuhyun lingers against his mouth only briefly before pulling back, but Zhou Mi has the taste for it now and he chases him after giving him a moment to breathe, pushing their lips together once more. Kyuhyun sighs gently against his mouth, his lips parting slightly, and Zhou Mi takes advantage, adjusting to fit Kyuhyun’s plump bottom lip between his own. Kyuhyun moves into it and his fingers leave Zhou Mi’s wrist so his hand can fit in the dip of his spine, a subtle request for him to move a little closer. 

Zhou Mi pulls back just a little to adjust the angle, fitting his hand to Kyuhyun’s hip, and then kisses him again as his fingers curl passively around the bone. They share a couple more short, sweet presses of lips against lips and then Kyuhyun is licking tentatively at his mouth and Zhou Mi parts his lips for him and lets him taste and thinks that he will never, ever get enough of this. When Kyuhyun pulls away from him after several long moments which turn the little sparks under Zhou Mi’s skin to blue flame, heating him from the inside and making him restless, there is the small, wet sound of their lips parting and the paperwhisp of Kyuhyun’s breath, coming hard despite his obvious attempts to control it. Zhou Mi moves in to him, unable to hold back, when there’s a rustling from the futon to the head of theirs: Sungmin and Siwon’s.

Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi freeze as the sheets on the other futon shift and the frame creaks slightly with the weight of someone shifting. 

“Why you…blanket hog…Siw…jerk I’m cold gim…me,” Sungmin mutters, mildly aggressive but obviously mostly asleep and then there’s some more fabric noise and a sigh and then he’s silent. 

Zhou Mi relaxes first, but Kyuhyun is still stiff and uncomfortable. 

“Are you ok – ?” Zhou Mi starts to ask, but part-way through he sees something in Kyuhyun’s eyes close down, and Kyuhyun turns wordlessly back around, pulls more of the covers away from Zhou Mi and burrows down in them. Zhou Mi can only stare at the back of his head across the quickly cooling expanse of mattress between them and wonder how he managed to fuck it up so fast. Again. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time it happened like this: 

_Kyuhyun pushes Zhou Mi against the wall of the bathroom in the dorms after a concert in Shanghai, but as he leans in to kiss him, he stops and he says to him: “If you’re quiet.”_

_And Zhou Mi says: “Okay.” Because the rest of the guys are right outside the door, and he doesn’t want them to find out about this. He just wants this now. All to himself._

_But then it’s minutes (hours? god, who knows…) later and all of the other boys have clearly gone to bed. They heard them all say their goodnights, and Zhou Mi says to him: “God, Kuixian…”_

_And Kyuhyun backs off and reminds him: “If you’re quiet.”_

_And Zhou Mi thinks this is a little weird, but he wants it, so he stays quiet and they kiss. They kiss and they kiss and Kyuhyun’s shirt is gone and so is Zhou Mi’s, and Kyuhyun’s belt buckle – who designed that little fucker? they ought to be shot – is proving to be something of an obstacle and Zhou Mi just can’t help himself, he says: “I want you so badly.”_

_And Kyuhyun’s hands grab his over the metal that his fingers are tangled in, and says again: “If you’re quiet.”_

_But Zhou Mi doesn’t understand - the other boys are all long asleep and there’s nothing to worry about - so he says: “Why do I have to be quiet?”_

_And Kyuhyun’s entire body freezes stiff as stone under his hands and he grinds out: “Don’t speak.”_

_But it’s in Zhou Mi’s nature to talk, especially at a time like this, because it’s so important for Kyuhyun to know just what he’s thinking about him, so he insists: “No, but Kuixian: why not? What’s so –?”_

_And Kyuhyun cuts him off midsentence, warning him lowly: “I’ll leave.”_

_But this makes no sense to Mi, so he asks: “Why? Wha–? No, don’t! Come back.”_

_And the last is because Kyuhyun has followed through on his threat, peeled himself from between Zhou Mi and the wall, picking his shirt up off the floor as he walks to the door. He doesn’t turn around as he says: "I warned you, Mimi."_

_So that’s the end of that._

 

Not that it happened. Because it didn’t until it happened again and the intervening days of acting as though it didn’t happen meant that it didn’t. If they pretend it was nothing, then what was nothing?

Until last night, obviously. God, Zhou Mi feels stupid. Kyuhyun, for his part, is acting as though nothing happened. He woke Zhou Mi up in the morning by rolling off the futon gracelessly and smacking him on the back of the head with a pillow on his way to the kitchen.

“Uncalled for,” Zhou Mi muttered into the blankets.

“Kyuhyun, was that really necessary?” Sungmin’s lightly-censuring voice came from somewhere on the other side of the room. “But Mimi, you really should get up. The cameras are going to be here in fifteen minutes, so if you want to pretend that you look more put together than is entirely human when you wake up, you should probably get going.”

Twenty minutes later, Kyuhyun woke Zhou Mi up again, by smacking him on the back of the head with a pillow again, in the presence of the camera crew. And Zhou Mi responded by swatting him on his way around the edge of the mattress, then pretending to rub sleep out of his “miraculously” un-bleary eyes. In the twenty minutes between the first and second time, they exchanged eight words: _Are you done in there? Yeah, go ahead._

Now they’re – all eight of them – resting in various states of up-rightness on the stage at Madison Square Garden, trying to drown themselves in water bottles in between re-rehearsing the blocking and choreography for every single song they’re preforming tonight, multiple times. 

“How much do you think I would have to pay a New Yorker to kill me?” Ryeowook asks weakly, lying on his back with his lower legs dangling off the stage at what looks like an incredibly uncomfortable angle, Henry’s head resting on his thigh. 

“Oh no,” Kyuhyun says, muffled into the arm that he’s thrown over his face, chest still heaving from exertion, “if anyone’s getting put out of their misery, it’s me. I call first dibs on contract suicide.”

“Suicide is a sin,” Siwon reminds them around gulps from his third water bottle, but even _he_ sounds winded and like his heart isn’t really in it. 

“I agree with Kyuhyun,” Henry says, patting Ryeowook feebly on the leg. “Sorry, hyung, you can’t die. If you die, the rest of us will starve. You have to sacrifice yourself for the greater good.” He tries to turn on his side and nearly falls of the edge of the stage, only saving himself by digging his fingers hard into Ryeowook’s thigh.

Ryeowook makes an unenthusiastic sound of distress and Zhou Mi laughs under his breath. He, Sungmin, Hyukjae and Donghae are the only ones who apparently aren’t feeling as though they’re on the verge of death. Hyukjae and Donghae, in fact, are still _moving_ : stretching and talking to each other enthusiastically as though they haven’t been throwing themselves around a stage since seven thirty in the morning – four hours ago. Sungmin, at least, is immobile, looking at something on his phone. Zhou Mi can feel the lactic acid building up in his legs, but his increased time at the gym clearly hasn’t been for nothing. 

Apparently going to the gym more is his only good idea recently. Kyuhyun’s charade of pretending that nothing happened isn’t entirely unexpected, since he did the same thing the first time they fell into each other, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Zhou Mi knows Kyuhyun’s M.O., knows that he hides from things he doesn’t want to face, and if he was smart he wouldn’t have let Kyuhyun drag him into something that he’d just want to forget again.

Maybe with someone else, he would have been able to resist. Maybe if it was a random fan or another friend or colleague, he’d be able to say, “No,” to the intent look focused only on him. But it’s not someone else; it’s Kyuhyun. And it’s always been Kyuhyun, ever since he offered Zhou Mi – out to sea in a foreign country and surrounded by confusing sights and sounds and rules – a bite of his food, kindness mixed with what would one day become affection in his dark eyes. 

Zhou Mi doesn’t believe in love at first sight, because he knows it wasn’t love in the beginning: it was curiosity and gratitude that eventually became friendship and fondness, and close contact took a friendly love and mixed in attraction and a dependency that was not debilitating as much as it was familiar and comforting. It wasn’t love in the beginning, but it’s love now, and Zhou Mi has always been too much of a romantic to ignore any sign of outreach, no matter how small. No matter how painful.

He knows intellectually that he should force Kyuhyun to face it, that he should try to pry answers out of him. If Kyuhyun is using him, he should know. By not asking, he’s hiding himself on the other side of Kyuhyun’s emotional barricade. But a large part of him doesn’t want to know if Kyuhyun’s using him; it’s content to take what Kyuhyun gives him – weird rules and all – and not push, because if he asks the wrong questions what little Kyuhyun has let him have might be taken away.

“Hey lazy.” A finger pokes into his cheek, and he opens his eyes and looks into Kyuhyun’s sweaty, upside down face. “Didn’t you hear? It’s ‘Super Girl’ time. Come on, old man: get up.”

“Hypocrite,” Zhou Mi accuses and plants a hand on his forehead to push his head out of his airspace.

“Oh, nice,” Kyuhyun says, smirking. “Who taught you that word?”

“I heard people use it when they were talking about you,” Zhou Mi replies, all innocence. “I thought I’d try it out.”

Sungmin lets out a snort of laughter poorly disguised as a cough.

Kyuhyun narrows his eyes but offers Zhou Mi a hand, nearly overbalancing with a great show of theatrics when he plants his weight to swing himself up to standing. 

“You win this round,” he says as they get into the opening formation. “You won’t be so lucky again.”

Intellectually, Zhou Mi should force Kyuhyun to face up to it. But emotionally he can’t afford to have this taken away. He’s always been more of a feeler than a thinker, anyway.

 

“HOLY FUCK THAT WAS FANTASTIC!” Hyukjae looks like he’s about to explode, and Kyuhyun sympathizes. He’s got so much adrenaline in his system that he feels like he could go off at the slightest brush of static electricity. Donghae and Siwon are hugging each other and jumping up and down like a couple of teenage girls, Ryeowook and Sungmin are chattering to each other in breathless, shaky voices, Henry is on the phone speaking English to someone who Kyuhyun has gathered is probably one of his parents in the audience, and Zhou Mi is heading Kyuhyun’s way with a giant grin on his face.

“That was amazing, wasn’t it?” he asks, face shining with sweat and glitter from the canons that went off during the second encore and his makeup is kind of all over his face and Kyuhyun can’t help the matching smile that creeps over his face.

“I think it was the best ever,” he agrees, reliving the roar and enthusiasm of the enormous crowd, and, best of all, no Only13 anti-fans – at least no noticeable ones. Henry and Zhou Mi both deserved that concert so much – to feel so much love from so many people – and Kyuhyun would be unsuccessful if he tried to convince himself that his happiness with the performance wasn’t directly tied in part to that. 

“And we get to do it all again tomorrow! Aren’t we lucky, Kuixian?” That shine isn’t all sweat and stage glitter – most of it is just Zhou Mi; the physical manifestation of his personality, drawing Kyuhyun in like an idiot moth to the brightest person in his life. 

“We sure are,” he says.

 

“What are you -- ? Oh…” Zhou Mi silences as Kyuhyun touches his cheek and turns his face. 

“Quiet.”

Zhou Mi lets out a soft moan – that’s okay, that’s safe enough in a small, dark VIP room with a locked door, secluded from the rest of the after party – when Kyuhyun kisses him. He’s so – he’s just – Kyuhyun has no words for this, for moments like this, for feelings like this. 

Zhou Mi is tall and he leans down to meet Kyuhyun’s mouth, eager in a way that Kyuhyun is in no hurry to analyze. His silk dress shirt is a rucked-up mess and feels much better against the back of Kyuhyun’s hands in counterpoint to Zhou Mi’s skin under his palms than between the two. Zhou Mi is hot under his hands, partly from the crush of bodies outside and maybe, Kyuhyun flatters himself, from Kyuhyun’s hands dragging over him, kicking up sparks like electricity where their skin touches.

This is a bad idea, his brain chants. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Risky, irresponsible, stupid. Kyuhyun tries to ignore it. It’s not as though he needs a reminder. Of course it’s a bad, risky, irresponsible, stupid idea. It was a bad, risky, irresponsible, stupid idea the first time and the second time as well, but that didn’t stop him then. 

Zhou Mi pulls back from the kiss like he’s about to say something and Kyuhyun dives back in to catch his mouth before he manages it, warning him with a little pinch to his hip. It’s a bad, risky, irresponsible, stupid idea, but Kyuhyun has been doing what he can to keep the risk to both of them as low as possible. Too bad Zhou Mi is one of the chattiest people Kyuhyun has ever met. It just figures that he wouldn’t be able to shut up at times like this either. 

Kyuhyun backs him away from the door toward the couch on the opposite side of the room and lets him go for just a few seconds to let him drop onto it before climbing onto his lap, hands on either side of his face, tipping his chin up to kiss him again. It’s a tiny thrill, being taller than him, being in charge in appearance as well as reality. 

“Ah, Kuixian,” he gasps, and Kyuhyun ducks his head to bite his neck in censure. 

“Shut up,” he mutters into his ear. “Stop talking.”

“But…” 

Kyuhyun pulls back and looks at him, eyes bright in the dim light of the room.

“I’ll leave,” he says, even as the thought of having to pull himself away yanks painfully on every last part of him. “You know I will.”

“I –” Zhou Mi says. “Um – But –” but when Kyuhyun braces himself on the back of the couch and makes to pull away, he stutters: “I mean, I – no! That’s – Fine. Okay!”

Kyuhyun looks at him appraisingly, trying to decide whether or not it’s worth it. He can just leave now and kill the risk for the night all together, just like he did the other two times, or he can trust Zhou Mi to not force him to fuck it up again.

“…please?” Zhou Mi says in a small voice, rumpled and gorgeous, and Kyuhyun stomps down on the feelings that rise up in his chest. “I promise.”

Kyuhyun falls back into him hard, hard enough that their teeth click and Zhou Mi makes a little wounded sound before threading his fingers into Kyuhyun’s hair and arching his back to get closer, closer, even closer. Zhou Mi kisses like he does everything else in life: enthusiastically and with two-hundred percent effort, and Kyuhyun falls further with every second that passes, so deep that he almost can’t pull himself to the surface when he hears it:

“I love you.” 

Almost silent, but not quite. Breathed against his mouth on the exhale of a gasp, and Kyuhyun will never get this moment back again. He drags himself back with every ounce of strength left in his body, pushes back and away from Zhou Mi’s body and Zhou Mi’s hands fall from where they were resting against his chest. Their shirts are both mostly undone. He doesn’t remember that happening, but it doesn’t really matter now.

“…” He has no words for this, where Zhou Mi has too many. The worst possible outcome has robbed him of anything to say.

“Kuixian?” Zhou Mi’s eyes are anxious, and Kyuhyun sees a fear of himself as well as a fear of Kyuhyun. A fear of Kyuhyun. He feels sick.

“Now you know why.” The words claw their way up his tight throat.

“Why…?”

“I hope you’re happy.”

It takes a lot to just leave him there, but Kyuhyun manages it.

The party seems a lot colder than he left it.


	3. Chapter 3

Heechul throws himself down in the chair across the table from Kyuhyun, and he’s got that look on his face again, the one he didn’t wear before he went to the army, the one he didn’t wear until they released him and he was officially The Man in Charge of ten unruly boys, much to Hyukjae’s relief. 

“What?” Kyuhyun snaps, a little more brusquely than he’d intended, over his bowl of kimchi jigae and winces when Heechul’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“You’re acting weird. Are you okay?”

“Weird? What? No, I’m fine.” 

“Weird, yeah. Cagey. Don’t lie to me, Kyuhyun. I’m doing you the courtesy of asking when I could just decide to beat it out of you instead.”

Kyuhyun looks up down at his bowl.

“Look, it’s nothing you need to worry about, okay?”

“Bullshit. If it’s something you worry about, it’s something I worry about too.”

_That_ makes Kyuhyun look up.

“When did you get so responsible, hyung?”

“When they put me in charge of little shits like you, maknae.” Heechul leans over the table and flicks Kyuhyun on the ear, and Kyuhyun is much more comfortable with this side of Heechul, even if it usually accompanies some form of physical damage. “So, tell hyung: why the fuck are you pulling that face?”

“What face?” Kyuhyun pokes his spoon around in his bowl with the hand not massaging his ear.

“Don’t start that again. You know what face. That miserable, teenage-angsty face you get whenever everyone gets together lately. The stupid face you got when everyone else decided to go out earlier and you decided to stay home with me.”

“I just don’t want to be…around people, much, that’s all.”

“Around people, or around one specific person?”

Heechul is a nosy bastard and Kyuhyun hates him.

“Figure it out for yourself.”

Heechul’s hand snakes across the table lightning fast and Kyuhyun only _just_ manages to get out of the way fast enough to avoid a matching sting on his as-of-yet unmolested ear. 

“Look, Kyuhyun, like I said: I was trying to do you a favour by asking and letting you tell me for yourself. But since you’re going to be like this, I’m going to tell you what your problem is and you’re going to have to hear exactly how stupid it is coming from me.”

“Whatever. Fine.” It’s not like Heechul really knows, anyway. Whatever he thinks he knows is just a guess. Because there’s no way that he can actually know. Kyuhyun’s been so careful in making sure that no one else can actually know.

“Something happened with Zhou Mi.” Well, shit. That was a remarkably astute beginning. Kyuhyun bites his lip and doesn’t look Heechul in the eye. Heechul continues without comment on Kyuhyun’s tell.

“I don’t know when it started, but it was definitely before New York. Something happened in America that made it worse, obviously, because you’ve both been really off since you came back. I know you’re not fighting, because you’re just being awkward and too quiet around him and he’s looking at you with stupid, moony cow eyes, so the only logical conclusion I can come to is that he confessed to you and you were a bastard about it.”

“What would he possibly have confessed to me?”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Kyuhyun. You know. And if he did, and if you acted like a tool, then it’s only my obligation as Leader and the intense peril my gorgeous face would be in in prison which is keeping me from killing you right now.”

“Heechul…”

“I might even think more of you if you were treating him this way because you were homophobic or borderline mental like Siwon, because then at least you’d be standing on something, flimsy as it might be. But as it is, I know that you love him. I know that you fucking love him, and he knows that you fucking love him, and treating him like shit, like this, is not only uncalled for, it’s cruel and unfair to both of you.”

“Heechul…”

“How close am I?”

Kyuhyun doesn’t answer, still in shock from hearing everything that Heechul has guessed correctly about him coming flooding into his head. Heechul takes that as the affirmative it clearly is.

“That’s what I thought.”

Kyuhyun is actually about to cry. He can’t believe it. After everything he did to make certain that no one knew, after _what he did_ to Zhou Mi… none of it made any difference. Someone still found out. Sure, that someone is Heechul – it could definitely, definitely be worse – but the fact of the matter is that everything Kyuhyun did to protect himself has added up to little more than nothing in the end.

“Are you—?” Heechul is squinting at him across the table in a way which lets Kyuhyun know that he’s forgone his contacts again. “Kyuhyun, are you crying?”

“No.” Kyuhyun tries to snap, and winces at how his voice comes out weak and there’s the tiniest drop of wet warmth crawling down one cheek.

“Oh, Jesus!” Heechul mutters, and suddenly he’s no longer on the other side of the table but at Kyuhyun’s side in the chair next to him, shoving his half-empty bowl of soup away from the edge of the table and yanking him forward into an incredibly awkward hug which is mostly just Kyuhyun leaning into Heechul’s collarbones at a seventy-five degree angle with about two feet of space between the rest of their bodies. “You’re not supposed to cry, you idiot.”

“I’m not crying!” Kyuhyun insists, and very surreptitiously wipes his cheek against Heechul’s shirt before he pulls back to a less scoliosis-inducing position. “And even if I was, why do you think calling me an idiot would help?”

“I believe in telling the truth,” Heechul fires back, although his tone is considerably less mock-poisonous than usual. “Honestly, Kyuhyun, I’m not trying to browbeat you.”

Kyuhyun feels entitled to raising his eyebrows at that.

“Okay. Maybe I’m trying to browbeat you a tiny bit, for Zhou Mi’s sake. But I really just want to make sure that you don’t make the same mistake that I did. Or that at least, if you do, you know the consequences before you have to face them.”

“What are you talking about?” Kyuhyun asks his bowl of soup, which he’s dragged back towards himself in preparation for needing something to focus on other than Heechul as he gives him what Kyuhyun is now ninety percent sure are the details of an affair that Kyuhyun has, for some time now, been comfortable enough knowing very little about.

That was apparently the worst thing to say, though, because Heechul is suddenly sixty kinds of serious and he sounds almost angry besides.

“Don’t play stupid, Kyu. I know you don’t want to hear this, from me of all people, but you have to, even if it’s awkward. You think I enjoy that I have to tell you this? Do you think I want to drag up all those memories so I can have a nice, fresh replay in my mind of how badly I fucked up?”

“Hyung—”

“No. No. Don’t ‘hyung’ me. Just shut up, and listen. I don’t care if you look at me or not, but I’m sacrificing something for you here, okay? Because you’re like my brother and I fucking love you and there’s nothing I want less than for you to make the avoidable mistake that almost ruined two lives last time it was made.”

The last time Kyuhyun heard Heechul this angry was when Jungsu made a comment encouraging the sasaeng behavior that had nearly put him in another car accident. Heechul is rarely truly angry, despite being a little high-maintenance, so when he gets like this then it’s obvious that it’s big and it’s bad.

“Okay, hyung,” Kyuhyun says to a floating piece of celery in his bowl. “Thank you.”

But now that’s it’s come down to it, Heechul seems to have lost some of his steam. Kyuhyun can hear him taking deep breaths and starting to speak only to think better of it before the syllable is fully actualized. When he finally starts to talk, he sounds like he’s trying to hold back tears. 

“Hankyu—Geng. I loved him, Kyuhyun. Okay? I loved him, and he loved me. And I knew that he knew that I loved him and that he knew that I knew that he loved me. And I was so afraid of that. I was terrified of him. He was my best friend, my partner in crime, my enabler. Everything. He was everything.”

A pause. A shaky inhale.

“I thought that if something happened between us – anything that would give away how we felt to each other honestly – we would be ruined no matter what we did. Someone would find out about us and force us to leave one another, or no one would and the stress of being afraid that they might would make us tear ourselves apart. We would ruin the group and our friendship and our lives, and I didn’t want that. For either of us. Because I loved him. 

"It all made so much sense at the time. All I knew was that nothing could ever happen, and nothing could ever be said. We lay together, next to each other, on some cold nights, and we’d just look at each other. And I used to see in his eyes that there were so many things that he wanted to tell me. There were so many things that he wanted to say; that he trusted me to know. But he knew that I didn’t want to hear any of it, and he loved me, so he didn’t do anything at all.

"He was lonely. He was so lonely, all by himself even when I was right next to him all the time because he couldn’t tell me anything. He wanted to trust everything to me but his respect for me meant that he wouldn’t give in to the impulse. He just let it build up inside him until the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. And then he left. He just. Left.”

Kyuhyun doesn’t have to be reminded. He remembers. He remembers getting back to Korea and Hankyung not being there, even though he’d come home earlier than the rest of them. He remembers being afraid that something had happened to him en route, that he’d been in an accident and no one had been informed. Jungsu had been beside himself with panic and poor Heechul had gone into Hankyung’s room and curled up on his still-made bed, waiting for him to show up and make it all miraculously better. Getting the phone call that he had gone back to China, for good, only made it worse. Heechul stopped eating and sleeping in favour of calling and texting Hankyung’s unresponsive phone with a psychotically religious fervor. Kyuhyun had vehemently wished that Hankyung had just done the decent thing and died. He feels extra guilty about thinking that when Heechul gathers himself enough to continue and says,

“He was _suicidal_ , Kyuhyun. He left because he was so fucking lonely and unhappy that he thought his only choices were to leave or to die. I should have never put him in that position. I loved him; I should have been there to support him against everyone else, not to be the giant emotional blockade in the middle of his roads to recovery. I should have been making him feel loved, not totally alone.”

Heechul is crying, and not crying the way that Kyuhyun was earlier—tiny inconspicuous spots of water—no. Heechul is sobbing. He collapses into himself with his elbows against his ribs and his face in his hands and he cries. Kyuhyun hasn’t seen him cry like this since it finally hit home with him that Hankyung wasn’t coming back. Ever. It was like seeing a small child realise that a beloved pet wasn’t going to greet them at the door, tail wagging enthusiastically, wet kisses at the ready, ever again. That there was a last time, and they had missed all the important moments of it in the rush of everyday life. _I should’ve said goodbye. All I want is a few more minutes with him, to tell him I love him. It’s not fair. I never got the chance to let him know…_

Kyuhyun is not really very good at hugging people who are not Zhou Mi, taller than him and used to fitting against him, easy with practice. Kyuhyun is especially bad at hugging Heechul, whose height is awkward, who slouches, and who stays either stiff or too relaxed when arms go around him. But he sucks it up and does what he hasn’t done since that moment when he last saw Heechul sob, and he stands up, tugs Heechul up with him, wraps his arms around him tightly and holds him close, lets him cry into his shirt, shoulders shaking, chest hitching painfully. He may be the youngest, but he’s well aware of when and what his brother needs.

“Don’t do that to him,” Heechul mumbles into his shoulder once his breath has evened out enough to allow speech, and for a moment Kyuhyun thinks that Heechul is talking to his past self about Hankyung. “Don’t make Mimi go through that, Kyu. He deserves so much better than that.”

_Yeah._ Kyuhyun thinks. _He does._

 

Zhou Mi sits on his bed and tries very, very hard to focus on the book in his hands. He does want to read it. He really, really does. Song Qian said she loved it and he’s always trusted her taste and he wants to be able to talk about it with her, but…

Concentration is just not happening for him. He’s reading, yeah. He’s definitely reading. The words are going in through his eyes, but they’re slipping out, ephemeral, through the back of his mind before they actually make any concrete sense. He turns a page. _…even though she had been warning him for years that it would collapse. It wasn’t until the early 1980s that…_

Collapse. Fail. Break down. Go horribly wrong. Oh, for the love of god. Why does everything have to remind him of Kyuhyun? Even stupid things. Like at breakfast the other morning, he’d just gone blank, stopped eating, and Henry had looked at him sideways and asked what was wrong. Zhou Mi had stood up from the table and gone to his room, making some vague excuse about suddenly having wondered if he’d turned his alarm off, too embarrassed to say that the tiny, almost invisible, dent in the end of his chopsticks had reminded him of Kyuhyun accidentally biting down on them, the face he’d made as he flopped dramatically off his chair, complaining that he’d broken his mouth.

It’s not like he’s pining or anything, or that there’s nothing else he can think of. He’s an adult, after all, and it’s been eighteen days since Kyuhyun stopped talking to him about anything other than work, and never in private. He thinks he’s dealt with everything pretty responsibly, under the circumstances. They were in New York for just under two weeks and while it was…strained, nobody died. By the time he got back to the loft, Kyuhyun had already been back for a while and he was sleeping next to Ryeowook, who had apparently followed him out of the party. He spent the rest of the nights with Ryeowook, and Zhou Mi slept next to Henry. 

He might have known that that would be different. He might have realised that the next day wouldn’t go on as usual, the way it had all the other times. There was something different about that night, in the VIP room, Kyuhyun’s dark eyes and the way he seemed to want to be closer every second; the way he shuddered and the tightness in his face when he drew away. The way he was fighting both of them, written in every inch of his body, as he pulled out of Zhou Mi’s arms. _Now you know why. I hope you’re happy._ What does that even mean? How could he blame Zhou Mi for feeling like he did when he kept coming back, over and over, offering himself a little at a time, tantalizing but never really enough? There was no coming back from that. There had been no hope of shy, embarrassed smiles and a return to normalcy in the morning. No hope at all.

They’d stayed quiet with each other. They talked when they had to talk, when there were cameras around. They tried to act natural, but it had felt stunted and Zhou Mi’s fairly certain that most of their interactions will be cut when the show finally airs. For the first couple of days, Zhou Mi had been confused. Even now he still doesn’t really know what happened that night, what happened on the other nights before that. He thought… he had been so sure that Kyuhyun loved him. Why else would he even have risked doing what he did? But he’d reacted so badly when Zhou Mi confessed – and it was so soft, it was barely even meant for him to hear, it was just something that he had felt and been utterly unable to contain – that he couldn’t, possibly. Because if he did, he wouldn’t have…

Oh, fuck it. It’s really not worth winding himself up about. It’s over, it’s awkward. Kyuhyun’s been avoiding him like he’s contagious ever since they got back to Korea. Zhou Mi’s pretty sure that Henry and Heechul are both highly suspicious of them, while everyone else just appears to think that they had a fight and they need time to cool off from each other. It happens, it’s normal. God, Zhou Mi only wishes it was something as trivial as a fight. At least if he’d accidentally stepped on and shattered one of Kyuhyun’s games, he could buy him a new one. At least if he’d been accused of not giving him enough space he could back off for long enough to show he respected his wishes. This… this has no definition and there’s no way of fixing it, not that he can see.

He’s done a pretty good job of not letting it interfere with his life, though. Unlike Kyuhyun, who seems, quite literally, to be afraid of being anywhere near him, especially if they run of the risk of ending up alone, Zhou Mi has gone about his life as normal. He goes to press events, he visits friends, he does radio interviews. In the five days since they’ve been back in Korea, he’s gone over to the big dorm three times, and last night everyone – aside from Heechul and Kyuhyun – went out to a club. It was nice. He has friends other than Kyuhyun and he likes spending time with them. Sure, when he and Kyuhyun have been in the same general space he’s found himself zoning out, staring at him, trying to figure out what went wrong, but other than that… he’s fine. He really is. Given a bit more time, he’ll be at one-hundred percent again. He’ll still love him, sure. It takes more than a rejection to destroy that. But given a while…maybe it will fade. He’ll move on. He’ll be happy…

Zhou Mi drops his book onto his lap, still open, pages face-down and bent against his legs. It’s not like any of the last six pages have actually registered with him. He leans back against his pillows and stares at the ceiling, willing Henry to get home already so that he can have an excuse to busy himself with either making them dinner or ordering in. He grabs his phone off the bedside table, hoping in vain that someone texted him and he just didn’t hear it because the ringer turned itself off by magic or something. No such luck. He sends Song Qian a quick message to tell her that he’s started to read the book she leant him and prays that she’s ready and available to reply. Five minutes later, not a thing. His life. This day. Why?

He picks the book up and shuts it, puts it on the table with his phone and then grabs a pillow, hugs it to his body and rolls over on his stomach with it, like he used to do with his teddy bear when he was a kid. His pillow smushes into his glasses, which press into his nose uncomfortably. He turns his head to look at the clock. Only 3:30? Dear God. He only started reading at ten past. Maybe he should get out of the dorms and go for a walk or something. It’s raining outside, and cold, but at least it’d be something to do. Instead, he turns his face back into the pillow and just breathes against it. In, and out. In, and out. In, and… 

 

When the buzzer for the door goes off, he jerks abruptly awake, cringing at the bruised, numb feeling on the bridge of his nose. He takes his glasses off and puts them on the table. Looks at the clock. 4:17. Well. At least some time has passed. He wonders who’s at the door. The manager just usually lets himself in. So do Henry and Jungmo and, well, most of Super Junior to be honest. Then again, if someone isn’t sure that they’re home, just walking in would be pretty weird. He’d better go see who it is. 

He drags himself off the bed and spares a moment to set himself to rights, patting his hair down half-heartedly and pressing his fingers against the sides of his nose like it will make the purple/red line of his glasses disappear. Not happening? Oh well. He walks across the living room toward the door. Whoever buzzed hasn’t done so again. Maybe they just figured nobody was at home and left. He’d probably better check anyway. It’ll give him something to do. He unlocks the door and opens it.

There’s no one there. 

He shrugs to himself and is just about to close the door when he hears a quiet voice.

“Wait.”

He stops dead.

“Kyuhyun?” he asks quietly, barely daring himself to believe it. Maybe he’s come over to see Henry. Maybe he thought Jungmo was home. Maybe…whatever it is, it can’t be what he wants.

Slowly, Kyuhyun steps out from around the corner of the door frame. He must have been leaning up against the wall next to the door, just out of Zhou Mi’s view. He looks nervous, quiet, shy, but he’s looking Zhou Mi in the eyes, honest, which is more than he’s given him in weeks.

“Hi,” he says.

“Um…” Zhou Mi says, feeling his brain start to go dizzyingly out of control. “Hi. Are you…? Did you come to see Henry? Because he’s still out doing that pre-taping with Amber and I don’t think he’s supposed to come back until late. I can take a message for him, if you want. Or if you need to pick something up I’m sure it’d be fine if you just grabbed it and I’ll let him know when he gets home. His room is probably unlocked so you could just go in if you needed to. I…”

“Mimi.”

Zhou Mi goes silent. 

“I came to see you.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m sorry.” He sits on the couch with a hot mug of tea in his between his palms, rotating it back and forth to let the heat spread across his skin. Zhou Mi is sat on the carpet a few feet away, long legs steepled in front of him, distractedly picking bits of unidentifiable detritus out from between the fibres, but he looks up when Kyuhyun speaks. He looks tired, and wary, but there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes that Kyuhyun sees all too well. 

“I missed you,” Zhou Mi offers quietly in return; the first words they’ve exchanged since he let Kyuhyun in the door. He made him his tea without being asked, knowing what he liked and what comforted him, and they came to this point through silent, tacit understanding. Maybe this is the connection that Heechul saw, the connection that they were too invested in to identify for what it is.

He’s sincere, Kyuhyun knows, but he can’t help the snort of disbelief that escapes him all the same.

“I don’t know why. I wouldn’t miss me if I were you.”

“Kyuhyun…”

Silence between them. He looks down at his cup and curses himself for not being able to act like an adult, even when it counts. _Especially_ when it counts.

“I mi—” he says, just as Zhou Mi starts to say, “I thi—” They both stop and stare at each other a little sheepishly. 

Zhou Mi gives him a tiny, awkward smile. “You can go first.”

“Ah,” Kyuhyun says. “No, that’s okay. You go.”

“Oh. I…” he looks back down at the carpet, as though the little green threads will give him strength, and then he looks back up at Kyuhyun. “I think you know why I missed you.”

_I love you._

“…I know. I missed you, too.” 

There’s silence again and then, of all things, Zhou Mi laughs. Kyuhyun looks up at him, startled.

“What?”

“This is too awkward, isn’t it? Are you going to drink your tea or just stare at it all day?”

“ _You’re_ too awkward, sitting on the floor like a twelve year old. And I was concentrating!”

“I didn’t make it for you so that you could concentrate on it. I’ll sit on the couch with you if you drink it.”

“Fine.” Kyuhyun gives him his best squint.

“Fine.” Zhou Mi smiles a little in reply and unfolds himself, all three zillion feet of him, and sits down on the couch beside him. He’s not very close – still a little self-conscious (they have a lot to talk about, after all) – maybe about two feet of space between them, but his body language is more comfortable than Kyuhyun would have expected and he thinks that Zhou Mi trusts him too much, and he’s the luckiest person on earth because of it.

He takes a sip of his tea – jasmine green, the brand that Zhou Mi keeps in his cupboards specifically for the times when Kyuhyun comes over – and lets the heat seep into him, spreading and warming him from the inside out. It makes him shiver, and he sighs. “Ah. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. Zhou Mi…” he glances over and sees Zhou Mi looking at him, quietly curious, but patient. The guilt that’s squirming around inside him gets kicked up a notch and he looks back down at his mug, feeling like a coward. “I’ve been really awful to you.”

He waits for a second, to see if Zhou Mi will say something; if he’ll deny it or readily agree (Kyuhyun’s not sure which would be worse). But he stays silent, waiting himself, and Kyuhyun continues.

“It was wrong of me to do what I did. And I know it probably seemed like I was playing with you. But I didn’t…I never meant for that to happen. I swear.”

“What did you mean to happen?” Kyuhyun glances over at him again and sees him staring blankly at Kyuhyun’s hands. He seems to sense Kyuhyun’s eyes on him and when he looks up to make eye contact, Kyuhyun can see barriers there that rarely come down with him, so friendly and open so much of the time. Zhou Mi is worried about getting hurt. No, he _knows_ that he’s going to be hurt, he’s just not sure how yet. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits quietly, and although it’s the truth, it feels disingenuous leaving his mouth. Like maybe he does know, but it’s not something which he can define because he’s too afraid to face it head on. But maybe he should try to. Zhou Mi deserves that from him, at least.

“It’s like…I wanted you. But I didn’t want you to know that I did. Or, no. I… I didn’t want to know that it meant more to you than it did to me?”

“Oh.”

_I love you._

Pain doesn’t wash in over Zhou Mi’s expression, it pokes tiny holes in it: pinpricks in the corners of his eyes, the side of his mouth, the dips in his cheeks. He’s trying so hard to hold a straight face, but those tiny parts – the weakest areas – of his mask have been punctured and he’s struggling to hide how much it hurts. Kyuhyun’s suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to touch him, to put his hands against the places where his emotions are leaking through and smooth them over, fix the damage. 

He squeezes the mug tighter. He thinks he might shatter it and send tea and bits of ceramic all over everything. Is hiding his feelings like this really good for either of them? He wants to touch, and Zhou Mi needs comfort, but Zhou Mi doesn’t trust him, or at least he shouldn’t. Maybe he deserves that, though. No, he definitely deserves it. But maybe he should try anyway. Zhou Mi reached out to him, over and over and got himself rejected in the process. Now it’s Kyuhyun’s turn. If he gets pushed away, it’s only fair, it’s Zhou Mi’s right.

Zhou Mi watches him silently as he takes another sip of tea and then sets the mug down carefully on the carpet at his feet. He pauses. He’s scared. Jesus, why is this so terrifying? This is only Zhou Mi. This is only his friend. This is only an offer of comfort. But…no. This is not only Zhou Mi. This is the man that he’s been too cowardly to admit he loves. This is him reaching out for a chance to fix things between them, or to make things better for Zhou Mi, if not himself.

“I’m sorry,” Zhou Mi says, quietly, and Kyuhyun starts, knocked out of his plan for how this was supposed to go. 

“What?” he says, turning with now-empty hands to look at him, confused. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I should have just done what you said. You let me have so much. It was selfish of me to try and make it mean something it didn’t. Because I…I just. I thought that you…felt. Like I did. I guess I just wanted it too much to see the truth. I shouldn’t have pushed that on you. So I’m sorry.” Zhou Mi dips his head, as in a small bow, and looks at his lap. 

Kyuhyun has never hated himself more in his entire life than he does in that moment. Was this what he thought he wanted: Zhou Mi feeling guilty and unloved because of Kyuhyun’s cowardice? He is such a bastard. God, he is such an incredible fucking bastard. Suddenly all he can see is the way that Hankyung used to look at Heechul sometimes when his guard was lower than usual: stress intermingled with a quiet sadness and what talking to Heechul has made him realise was longing.

Is history doomed to repeat itself? Hankyung didn’t deserve that, and neither does Zhou Mi. And Kyuhyun loves him, the feeling winding itself up in his chest like his heart is getting crushed, squeezed tighter and tighter by the idea that Zhou Mi blames himself for _anything_ that Kyuhyun put him through. It was never a realization, it was just a fact, a state of being that had him reaching for more contact, more, until he crossed the line and found himself fighting with what he needed and what he thought he should want (or rather, what he thought he _shouldn’t_ ). 

There is nothing that has been as important as what Kyuhyun does next, and overthinking has only ever gotten him in trouble before, so he just does what he wants to do, what he _needs_ to do, and says screw-all to anything else.

He stands up, but Zhou Mi continues to look down. Like he expects Kyuhyun to walk away from him, to leave. Like he thinks it’s what he deserves. Kyuhyun takes the two steps necessary to be standing in front of him on the couch and then reaches out and touches his shoulder. Zhou Mi jolts under the unexpected contact and then looks up at him, uncomprehending. Kyuhyun gives him a gentle tug.

“Come here,” he says. 

Zhou Mi follows the pressure of his hand and stands, awkwardly, hands at his side and confusion writ large over his face. There are tears in the corners of his eyes that haven’t yet spilled over, and Kyuhyun wants to kiss his cheeks until those tears retreat. But that’s too much yet. That’s taking liberties. For now, he can only do this:

He takes a step closer – a step across space which was barely there to begin with – and wraps his arms carefully around Zhou Mi’s waist, a gentle hug, loose enough for Zhou Mi to pull away if he feels uncomfortable. Everything is up to him, now. Kyuhyun’s decisions have done enough damage to last a lifetime. 

For a moment he’s deathly still – he even stops breathing – and Kyuhyun’s heart sinks, certain that he’s about to be softly pushed away and asked to leave.

And then he moves. 

He brings his hands up and rests them high on Kyuhyun’s back, hesitant still, maybe, but not unwilling. Kyuhyun’s tightened his arms around him before he even realises that was what he was intending to do, pulling Zhou Mi closer to him and letting his fingers dig into his back just a bit, holding on. Zhou Mi takes a deep breath at that, and then lets it out, and slides his arms further around his back in response, actually holding him rather than just touching. Yes.

Kyuhyun rests his chin on Zhou Mi’s shoulder, content with feeling his heart beat against his chest and hearing him breathe. But there are things he has to tell him. Things he has to say. Things he needs to make sure aren’t misunderstood. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, voice barely over a whisper, so close to Zhou Mi’s ear that anything less intimate is unnecessary. “You never did anything wrong.” 

Zhou Mi shivers and Kyuhyun can feel his shoulders hunching in, trying to curl in on himself even as the pressure against Kyuhyun’s back remains steady.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says softly. “You didn’t want to hear that.”

“That was my mistake, not yours.”

“You said, you didn’t want to know that it meant more to me than it did to you. I didn’t realise that it didn’t… I didn’t know that we weren’t on the same page.”

“Mimi.” Kyuhyun pulls away from him, just a little bit, enough to look him in the eye although their arms are still around each other. “ _That_ was my mistake. I was wrong. You weren’t.”

“I don’t understand.” The emotional armor Zhou Mi had been wearing is gone, leaving a desperate, vulnerable kind of hope in his eyes that could destroy him if Kyuhyun says the wrong thing. 

“I love you,” he says. 

Zhou Mi stares at him.

“I love you,” Kyuhyun says again, and it feels so good, so freeing to say that, to know that he knows it. 

Zhou Mi is silent for a long time, his expression inexplicable.

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” he says, finally. “I don’t need you to lie for me.”

“I’m not!” Kyuhyun exclaims – almost shouts, despite how close they are. “I’m not. Christ, Mimi, you’ve got to believe me. I’m not lying.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. I thought at first that it would be easier if I ignored it, if I pretended it didn’t exist and that I didn’t love you. And I didn’t want you to tell me how you felt because if I knew for certain then I’d have to face up to the fact that what was really happening between us wasn’t just something casual and convenient and I was so scared, I was terrified that if we ever really loved each other then we’d be in for hell of a magnitude I couldn’t even comprehend.”

“And what do you think now?”

“That not taking advantage of what we have and losing you is far, far scarier than anything else ever could be.”

That’s it. That’s everything that he’s needed to say, to explain. That’s what he needs Zhou Mi to know. It feels good, letting that out, admitting it to himself just as much. His shoulders feel lighter, even though his stomach is still tying itself up in knots, waiting for Zhou Mi’s reply.

Zhou Mi considers him carefully, eyes raking over his face as though searching for some sign of a lie, of something less than genuine emotion. 

“You mean it,” he decides, finally.

“Yeah,” Kyuhyun says, letting himself smile a little. “I do.”

It’s Zhou Mi, this time, who gathers _him_ in, hugging him tight, holding him closer than Kyuhyun deserves and as close as he’s been longing for. Kyuhyun lets his inhibitions go and hugs him back, just as firmly as he wants to, both of them shuffling closer until not even air can get between them.

“You’re a jerk,” Zhou Mi whispers into his hair, and Kyuhyun supposes he deserves that. He’ll take it as long as he gets to hug Zhou Mi as well. “But I love you anyway.”

The sound of the door code being punched in sends them apart from each other, but not too far away, both of them turning to look at the door, hands just brushing against one another as Henry bundles his guitar, backpack, and a bag of groceries into the flat. He looks up at them standing next to each other with surprise.

“Oh hey!” he says, dumping his backpack on the ground and leaning his guitar carefully against the wall in its case. “Hi Kyuhyun. Are you two getting along again now?” From the look he shoots Zhou Mi, Kyuhyun is pretty such that Henry has been just as suspicious about them as Heechul.

“Yeah,” he says, putting an arm over Zhou Mi’s shoulders and jostling him against his side. “We’re good.” Zhou Mi looks over at him with an enormous smile and Kyuhyun as to dig his fingers into his palm to stop from leaning over and kissing him right there.

“Great!” Henry says, beaming at them, and then he holds the plastic bag up in their direction. “They rescheduled the pre-taping for later this evening, so I stopped by the grocery store on the way home from the studio. Who wants to help with dinner?”

 

Two hours later Henry has left again and Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi are washing the dishes, Kyuhyun grumbling about being made to do work when he’s a guest and Zhou Mi reminding him that all he did to help actually make the food was shout out unhelpful comments about Henry’s frying technique from his spot leaning against the counter, drinking wine. 

“My hands are going to be all gross, though! Don’t you have a dishwasher?”

“It’s broken, and this builds character.”

“Urgh. I don’t need any more character.”

“Hey.” Zhou Mi puts a hand – the one still holding the drying cloth – on Kyuhyun’s shoulder, and turns him. 

“Wha—?” His words die abruptly as Zhou Mi kisses him, firm and sweet and just like what Kyuhyun’s been wanting, just what he needs. When Zhou Mi pulls away, it’s to give him a smug little smile.

“Not going to tell me to shut up again, are you?” he asks, a little teasing, although the pain associated with it is still very much there, and Kyuhyun half-wonders if he’s not a little bit serious. It’s going to take a long time to fix that, but Kyuhyun’s more than prepared to do whatever it takes. 

“Absolutely not,” Kyuhyun says, and reaches up to tug him back down. 

 

The dishes are left unfinished, languishing in their lukewarm water as the bubbles pop and settle, and Zhou Mi ends up with wet hand prints all over his shirt and dirty dish water and soap in his hair and on his face. In the morning he wakes up with Kyuhyun beside him, however, and no words are left unsaid.


End file.
